


Between Love and Like, Falling and Fallen

by misomilk



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, promptio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 05:11:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3638004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misomilk/pseuds/misomilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gladiolus and Prompto are both clearly, strictly, into girls. But there is something about one that intrigues the other--keeps them occupied, compels them to wonder about possibilities, makes them want to test the boundaries of friendship. Perhaps they will only realize they have crossed the line when they had already fallen. WARNING: Sexual situations. Vomiting. Use of drugs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Love and Like, Falling and Fallen

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it turned into one hell of a oneshot. Lmao This is set before they go out on a journey for FFXV. And uhm, I guess it’s me trying to justify how they fall for each other when they’re clearly both into women. lol Not as smutty as I’d hoped, but I really enjoyed writing this. I hope you enjoy reading it, too!

Gladiolus was into girls. No, not just ‘was’. ‘Is’ and ‘forever will be’, into girls. Admittedly, he’s had the (unfortunate) experience of having sexual intercourse with a man before. It was a mistake on his part, on Gladiolus’, falling to the temptation of what seemed to be a good idea at the time. He blames military and the lack of women to fuck, and the sheer stress of training after training after endless training, adolescent hormones on a rampage as sprinkles on top.

But the past has passed. It’s been more than a decade since then. However, an unexpected challenger of his sexual preferences has arrived in the form of Prompto Argentum.

Gladiolus was sure he liked girls. He loved how they squirmed when he thrust hard, insides clamping around him, how their breasts jiggled with his force, how high their voices go when he (for many times a night) successfully brings them beyond ecstasy.

But Prompto… There was nothing to like about him. Not sexually, at least. (He’s a great friend. Though the thought ‘friend’ makes Gladiolus grimace.) Supposedly.

Prompto’s raspy voice… Gladiolus finds himself wondering how hard his voice cracks when he screams out of ecstasy.

***

Prompto is into girls. Loves girls. Loves to make love to girls. They’re soft and smooth, curvy and sweet, pretty and elegant. He likes how they giggle when he whispers sweet nothings to their ears, how they smell of flowers even without perfume, and how they dress nicely, like there’s always some place special to go. On top of the list of why-he-loves-girls is this—big, soft breasts feel great. Boobs, in general, are great. More than driving himself deep into a girl’s tight hole, he loved squeezing his face between his partner’s breasts and feeling them—the smoothness, the softness, the warmth passing onto him.

It made no sense, then, why he’d feel any sort of sexual excitement for Gladiolus Amicitia.

The man had no full breasts, of course. Nothing for Prompto to squeeze. Nothing to cop a feel for.

Though those pectorals… Prompto finds himself wondering how hard or soft (or warm, or smooth) they would feel under his touch.

***

"It’s not what it looks like," Prompto acts like a deer caught in headlights, and drops what was in his hands—the shirt Gladiolus left beside him on the bench. The burly man left Prompto in the dressing room for a short while to fetch himself a bottle of water from the cooler. He came back to this.

"If it doesn’t look like you were putting away my shirt," Gladiolus laughs short, through his nose. "then I don’t know what it should look like. Care to tell?"

Prompto laughs nervously, puts on that innocent smile he loves using to get away with things. “Oh, that’s exactly what I was doing. Putting away your shirt.” He picks up the shirt, grimaces at sweat that oozes out when he holds it, and awkwardly hums a song as he folds it up. “Geez, Gladio. You sweat a lot. You should have maybe ten or twenty more shirts with you.”

Gladiolus is mid-reply, comes near the teen to reach for his locker, when Prompto jumps and falls to the floor. The man’s eyes immediately dart to Prompto on the floor, confused why the teen would jump with so much fear when his arm simply brushed against his shoulder.

"What? Are you alright?” He asks, voice concerned.

“Y-y-y-you came up to me!” Prompto looks up at him with huge, frightened eyes.

Gladiolus raises a brow at Prompto, not sure with himself if he should feel concern or be suspicious. “I was just getting a new shirt.” He explains and holds out a free hand to help the teen up. “You okay?”

"Yeah." The teen stands up without heeding Gladiolus’ help, and quickly turns away. It doesn’t escape Gladiolus that the teen’s ears are reddish.

Gladiolus also notices that before he offered to help the teen up, Prompto was staring at him. (But not into his eyes. At his chest?) The burly man looks down at his body to check if there was dirt on him, and when it was clear there wasn’t, he took a clean set of underwear and pants. He heads towards the showers to the right.

In the showers, Gladiolus wonders why Prompto was so desperately trying to cover up his crotch area from the moment he fell until he got back up.

***

Prompto came to visit Noctis at the castle, only to find out Ignis had taken Noctis off to some princely lessons for the day. He learns this from a maid he’s flirting with (Huge boobs. Nice, he thinks.). Prompto is twirling her hair in his finger to help more information out of her (where is this ‘princely lesson’ taking place?), but with no luck.

His purpose at the castle gone—which is, to mess with Noctis—he assumes it is best to leave the castle. On his way out, he passes by Gladiolus, who is on his way to the training room.

An exchange of how are you’s later, the muscled man invites him to join him in training. Prompto enthusiastically declines. He’s not cut out for physical work, he explains. The burly man, seemingly hooked to the idea he can actually convince Prompto to train, continues to invite him.

Minutes later, Prompto is in the castle’s training room, watching Gladiolus train.

There’s a certain elegance to how Gladiolus carries himself, Prompto notices. It is this, the teen thinks, that glues his gaze to the sweaty, burly man. That—and how the man’s muscles flexed as he slashed a gigantic sword around. Fortunately for Prompto, Gladiolus sweats profusely enough to make his white shirt almost translucent. He could see Gladiolus’ tattoo past the sleeve, sees it in its complete glory now that cloth no longer hides it from him. He wonders how it was done, why Gladiolus chose that pattern, for what reason he got it.

An hour or so later, Prompto sits on a bench inside the dressing room to accompany Gladiolus there, too. The man strips off his wet shirt, makes the teen hold his breath and gulp. What a beautiful sight, muscles glistening in sweat, looking firm and delectable, and it was just an arm’s reach away. If he has enough courage, Prompto could stretch out his hand and trace Gladiolus’ abdominals one by one. (Abdominals or buns of bread? They look like buns of bread. How do you get abdominals like that?)

Distracted, Prompto doesn’t hear Gladiolus excuse himself to get a bottle of water from the cooler outside. Left alone with the man’s shirt discarded beside him, for what seemed like eternity, Prompto couldn’t deny himself the urge to take it and sniff.

Gladiolus’ scent.  
The shirt reeks of sweat, but a little of it remains. It also smells a bit of his cologne. The young teen would smell it on other people in the streets, and he’d turn around, hoping to see Gladiolus, but he never was. He could only ever see Gladiolus in the castle, and only when he’s guarding Noctis. Today was a miracle in itself. No Noctis, yet he got to spend time with Gladiolus. He was able to watch the man train, and even got to be alone with his shirt. Like this.

Prompto wanted to touch himself. Push that desire to satisfaction.

Gladiolus comes back in just as Prompto’s about to pop his pants open. The teen drops the shirt in his shock.

"It’s not what it looks like!"

***

Gladiolus never got the chance to ask Prompto about the suspicious bulge in his pants from that one time he fell in the dressing room. By the time he was done showering that day, Prompto had gone back to Prince Noctis’ side (who had come back from princely duties).

Though Gladiolus felt bad for it, he was ultimately jealous of the attention Noctis receives from Prompto.

***

When Gladiolus walks to the showers on the right, Prompto walks to the cubicles on the left. He mentally scolds himself. Gladiolus almost caught him masturbating to his shirt. To his fucking sweaty shirt. Prompto couldn’t understand himself. How could he have lost his senses so badly that he would be willing to masturbate in the open to a man’s sweaty shirt?

Sighing, the teen heads inside a cubicle, and unzips his pants to relieve himself. He thinks of cute girls he’s laid in bed with lately, thinks of their huge breasts, their graceful curves, their high-pitched voices.

Then the sound of a shower turning on, water droplets tapping on the bathroom tiles, comes from the other side of the room.

The images in Prompto’s mind quickly turn into that of Gladiolus. The man under the shower, bare naked, the tattoo in full view. Gladiolus’ long hair sticking to his neck under the weight of water droplets. Gladiolus lathering soap across his body, rinsing out sweat and compelling his natural scent to surface. Gladiolus turning to look straight at him, eyes glinting temptation, as he holds out a hand towards him. “Want to join in, Prompto?”

Prompto shudders from head to toe, and breathes out a weak, shaky “aah” when he comes shortly after.

***

Much time has passed since the dressing room incident.

Prompto has grown more muscle now. His hair no longer falls straight to a side of his face, but rises up in the shape of a chocobo’s (perhaps because he loves chocobos so much). He has a new favorite vest, one more stylish than the last.

But his smile is the same, wide and toothy, brightens any day, makes Gladiolus’ heart skip beats.

Gladiolus has come to terms that he /is/ attracted to the blonde teen, and not just sexually. He is sure in the way he is able to pick up the teen’s voice no matter how loud the crowd he’s in, in the way he no longer gets lost in what Prompto babbles on about, but in his oceanic blue eyes, in the way he enjoys teasing Prompto and riling him up with his snide comments because it means his words carry weight in Prompto’s heart.

Gladiolus likes Prompto Argentum.  
In love? Maybe not.

(Not yet?)

The burly man still likes girls. Still likes how tight they feel, how their breasts jiggle, how high their voices go when they come. None of that has changed.

Though in the years that’s passed, it seems he’s lost his touch. Times have changed, perhaps, and his way of picking up girls has gone out of style. Prompto, on the other hand, seems to be doing good. (Too good, maybe.)

Since the teen had picked up more muscle, the women of Insomnia have been throwing themselves at his feet with as much as a glance and a grin at their direction. It’s both threatening and unsettling.

Threatening because he’s losing out to a kid.  
Unsettling because—isn’t it with every girl Prompto picks up, Gladiolus’ chances of getting to Prompto get much more unlikely? (If he had any to start at all.)

***

Much time has passed since the dressing room incident.

Prompto has gained more muscle in attempts to look more manly. If he’s more manly, the less likely Gladiolus wouldn’t look at him, the more likely Prompto can forget any feelings towards Gladiolus whatsoever.

The plan seems to work well for the earlier, but doesn’t work too well for the latter.

With each time his path crosses Gladiolus’, the teen finds himself falling deeper, harder. For Gladiolus’ deep voice, for his toned muscles, for his charming sense of humor (snide comments included). For what else? Perhaps for everything else. His tendency to revel in compliments, even.

Prompto is falling for Gladiolus Amicitia.  
Already fallen completely? Perhaps not.  
(Not just yet. At least, Prompto hopes.  
There should still be some way out of this, right?)

The blonde teen still likes girls. Still likes how they giggle, how they smell of flowers, how they dress up nicely.

But the way Gladiolus laughs out loud, rambunctiously, his scent (which Prompto still hasn’t found the perfect word to describe), how he looks good no matter how loose or tight or dorky his clothes are—Prompto is sure he likes Gladiolus a whole lot more than girls in general.

***

Gladiolus is out drinking with some of his fellow ex-military men when he sees Prompto enter the bar with a girl. The night had fallen from a good boys’ night out, to constantly looking over at the other table, observing Prompto and his girl like Gladiolus was some jealous girlfriend.

It isn’t a good feeling. Being jealous, that is. And something is off about this girl.

Gladiolus notices the girl slip something in Prompto’s drink when the teen is off to the toilet. His chest grows aflame, enraged. He is about to walk over to that table when one of his buddies pulls him back down and offers him some more beer. Before Gladiolus could turn down the offer, Prompto is back with the girl. The teen doesn’t sit back down. He takes the tall glass, the one which the girl put something in, drinks all of its contents, and leads the girl out the bar.

The burly man takes it upon himself to follow them.

***

Prompto has a set of few girls he likes playing around with. Like him, these girls just want to have sex for the fun, for feeling good. They call each other up when there are urges they need to quench. But none of them are available that night, so instead, he decides to go drinking by himself to drown his feelings in beer.

It has been a long time since he’s seen Gladiolus. The royal family, along with Ignis and Gladiolus, had gone to a neighboring country for some… Prompto isn’t sure what, actually. Actively seeking information about royal issues isn’t in his repertoire.

It hurts that his friends are on a whole different level than him, but that’s just how things are. He’s a mere commoner of Insomnia after all.

It doesn’t help that, alongside this loneliness, his heart has been aching for Gladiolus since the last time they met. He smells Gladiolus’ cologne on strangers and his heart falls. He hears people laughing out loud, and Gladiolus’ laughter echoes in his ears. He misses Gladiolus in ways he’s never had for anyone and it’s frustrating. He needs to get out and sort these feelings through. The answer: a good night’s fuck. (Or drinking beer, if no partner to be found.)

When Prompto looks up at the bar entrance, there is a girl waiting. She’s pretty, has voluptuous breasts, and says hi to him in a shrilly voice. Perfect.

***

Gladiolus follows them to a hotel, anger burning embers in his veins. What’s stopping him from cutting in between them, right then, right there? He doesn’t know what, but he’s sure the way the girl clings unto Prompto, ample breasts pressing unto the teen’s arm, makes the flames of anger in his veins burn hotter out of jealousy.

The man knows he’s more jealous of the girl for being able to wrap her arms around Prompto like that.

He follows them up to their room, stealth skills he’s honed into every fiber of his muscle proving useful. However, he couldn’t react fast enough to catch the door to their room when it came to close. He stands there, next to the closed door.

What the hell is he doing?

***

Prompto guides her to a nearby hotel. His head is throbbing, and he feels like his stomach is churning, readying itself to spill out. But he doesn’t let it show, continues spilling sweet words to her ear instead. She giggles in the way he likes girls giggling, but it doesn’t make him feel better.

When they get to the room, his head is too fuzzy. His vision is blurry. Did he drink too much that night? He can’t recall anymore how many glasses of beer he’d drank.

Right when he’s about to push the girl unto bed, he falls to the floor instead and vomits.

He hears the girl shout at him, her disappointment, him getting her hopes up, his rudeness. He listens to her footsteps walking away from him, the door opening, and… a man yelping in surprise? Prompto coughs and vomits again. He waits for the door to click. He should stand up and wash off the acid taste in his mouth but he doesn’t have the strength to.

The door still hasn’t clicked.

He looks to the door, wondering what was there, what was preventing it from closing. There, he sees… Gladiolus?

Convinced he’s starting to see illusions, Prompto lets himself lose consciousness and drops into his vomit.

***

Gladiolus is surprised when the door suddenly opens and the girl rushes out the door, grumbling curses under her breath. Such ugly remarks for a girl with such a pretty face. (He can see why Prompto would blindly follow her. He might’ve done that, too.)

This time Gladiolus catches the door before it closes. He watches the girl’s retreating form, waits for her disappear to into the elevator, then heads inside the room.

He finds Prompto lying unconscious on the floor by the bed, in a pool of vomit.

Yeesh. How heartless of that bitch to leave him like this.

Gladiolus approaches the teen, slings him unto a shoulder, and heads into the bathroom to clean him up.

He has done this for a few friends before. Friends who had drunk too hard, trying to drown themselves and their feelings with alcohol (though in Prompto’s case, he’s not sure why he’d seem so desperate as he drank glass after glass that night). He knows how to clean them with a cool, wet towel even when they’re unconscious, making sure their body cools down. He knows he should wake them, change their clothes, make them vomit the alcohol poison out. Knows how to insert a digit into their mouth so they would gag and continue to vomit the alcohol poison out. That night wouldn’t end for an hour more or so, until the poison was out of Prompto’s system.

The teen is dazed the whole time Gladiolus treats him, doesn’t seem to be aware of anything happening. He just curls at the toilet, vomiting and vomiting and vomiting.

It isn’t a pretty sight. But Gladiolus can feel his heart weighing more feelings from Prompto every time he wipes vomit from the teen’s mouth. He wants to treat him gently, caress him, love him tenderly.

When the treatment is done, Gladiolus makes Prompto drink glasses of water he’d requested from the hotel staff (along with cleaning up the vomit on the floor), sets him comfortably on the bed, and watches him until he falls asleep.

***

Prompto feels like he’s floating, then he feels something cool on his head.

When he opens his eyes he sees Gladiolus’ face, senses Gladiolus’ hands stripping him of clothes and slipping him into new ones, hears Gladiolus’ calm breathing. He knows he’s asleep. Only in his dreams can he be this close to the burly man.

But this must be a nightmare, too. He keeps vomiting, like he’s eaten five months of food in one night, and is throwing it all out through his mouth now. His throat burns with acid, and his nose stings from the stench of it.

"You have to keep going," Dream Gladiolus urges, a reassuring hand on his back. With the thin material of the shirt he’s been changed into, Prompto can feel Gladiolus’ warm hands, can sense how thick each finger is. With one of such fingers, Gladiolus reaches into the back of his throat once more, making him gag, making him vomit hopefully one last time.

That, indeed, was the last batch of vomit he could regurgitate, it seems. He feels much less sick than he did moments ago, and his head is no longer throbbing. Dream Gladiolus wipes his mouth and Prompto wants to focus gazing into his eyes, to see if even Dream Gladiolus has beautiful brown eyes. And he does. Boy, he does.

Dream Gladiolus leans close to him and he thinks they’re about to kiss, but Dream Gladiolus only lets their foreheads touch.

"Don’t make me worry anymore, damn it." Then some more curses spill from his mouth.

Dream Gladiolus sure is accurate to the real one. Minus the tenderness he shows Prompto.

Prompto feels he is lifted up by strong arms, the background behind Dream Gladiolus’ head changing from bathroom tiles, to bed room wallpaper, and then the window next to the bed. Dream Gladiolus sets him comfortably into bed, and Prompto feels himself drowsing off to a second layer of sleep.

***

Birds are chirping out the window when the two of them wake up, Gladiolus on a chair beside the bed, Prompto looking at him from his place in the bed, eyes wide in shock.

"What’s with that stupid look on your face?" Gladiolus teases, his lips pulled to one side, smirking. Really, his heart is beating so fast, he feels he could explode. He’s so relieved Prompto is still alive and breathing.

"You’re here…" Prompto whispers. He can’t believe Gladiolus is right here. Does that mean everything from his dream was real? Gladiolus took care of him when the girl left him? But how? But why?

Gladiolus reaching out for Prompto’s hand shuts the teen’s thoughts off.

"Where else would I be?"

Gladiolus Amicitia and Prompto Argentum have fallen in love with each other. But it will still take some time before they realize this, and even longer for them to make things work out between them.


End file.
